


Hide and Seek

by talentless_skill



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: But everyone else notices after a while...., Depression, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Ohm is struggling and doesn't know that he is, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, THERE'S SO MUCH SUPPORT BETWEEN THEM I'M SURPRISED MERCY DOESN'T HAVE A CAMEO, and tries to hide away thinking that'll make it better, slight AU that Ohm's friends don't know what he looks like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:25:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7570591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talentless_skill/pseuds/talentless_skill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For years, Ryan has been fine. Well, kind of. Maybe. Sort of. At least, he thinks he's fine, and that's all that counts, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> FOR EVERYONE WAITING FOR CH. 2 OF DOUBLE TAKE OR MY OTHER MINICAT ONE-SHOT, I'm sorry those aren't out yet, I'm just having quite a bit of writer's block with everything (I'm in "I don't know how to wrap a chapter up" hell). I'll get them up as soon as I am able (although that may take a while, admittedly... I'm pretty busy atm). Thanks for your patience! <3  
> \---  
> Okay, now onto the stuff for this fic!  
> As usual, the amazing Raakxhyr on tumblr beta'd this for me. Go check out their fanfics and art esp. if you're into the zeroyalchoas, because they're honestly incredible :D  
> Aaaaaand finally, I wanna say that I wrote this as realistically as possible, using facts from Ohm's various livestreams, although I added his mental quirks and oddities for some good, old-fashioned angst. Enjoy! <3

Ryan sighed heavily as he sat back in his desk chair, running his hands up his face and through his hair in frustration. He didn’t know what to do. _Fuck. They’re going to be so disappointed._

Well, it _had_ been an accident the first time. He and his siblings had always travelled to the different gaming conventions, even before he had really started his YouTube channel and became “The Masked Gamer”. It had been a reprieve from the strict atmosphere in their home life, and had quickly become a tradition among them. Ryan supposed that going to those conventions were what had originally drawn him to the idea of creating his channel almost five years ago.

When he had first started his channel, he had only done “Let’s Plays” for League of Legends, with little to no commentary. If he was being honest, he had no fucking _clue_ what he was doing when he had first started his YouTube channel. Of course, he had learned different editing techniques over the years, and his videos had slowly increased in quality as a result. He hadn’t originally planned to keep his face from his viewers for so long, but after seeing how little privacy his friend Felix got when he had started gaining his millions of followers, he had decided that he didn’t want to have that happen to him either. And so his persona as Ohmwrecker, “The Masked Gamer” had been created.

He had enjoyed being a YouTuber, playing games with his friends and making videos- all the while being able to maintain his identity and therefore his privacy. It was nice; the most popular videos on his channel had over a million views, yet he could still walk around the streets of Chicago in peace. Besides, he hadn’t been raised in a loving household and _still_ wasn’t sure how he would take (even his friends) expressing their affections to him if they were ever to meet him or know who he was.

His trivial fears and insecurities were no excuse, he knew, but he just couldn’t make himself show his face to his friends, no matter how disappointed he knew they were (although, they didn’t show it...at least not to his face). Ryan supposed that he was a special kind of fucked up, as he kept coming back to E3 (or the Electronic Entertainment Expo if you wanted to get technical) every year regardless, hoping that he would finally work up the courage to reveal himself to his friends; however, every single year it turned out the same, with him walking away, unable to fucking tell them _the truth._

Every year he walked up to everyone and forced himself to take a photo with his dearest friends, because he owed them at least _that much,_ even if the gamers never knew it was him. It wasn’t because this pain he was causing himself felt better than the hollow _emptiness_ that would envelope him otherwise; no. He was _fine_ ; his channel was doing better than ever had before- he thought he may even hit one million subscribers before the year was up if he was lucky enough.

He had absolutely _no reason_ to feel this way, he told himself when he woke up in the middle of the night for the upteenth time. _I’m fine,_ he told himself as he had panic attacks on the barren floor in his apartment, only feeling the cold seeping up through his bare feet and Buddy’s concerned whimpers echoing through his ears. The phrase eventually became his personal mantra; the only thing he could use to hold onto his sanity. _I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong- I’m fine. I have to be._ He always managed to pick himself up after that, so it worked, didn’t it?

Besides, they didn’t need a friend like him, one that had deceived them for years on end. They didn’t need to know the _coward_ that he truly was- they didn’t deserve to have his demons piled upon all of the other shit they had going on their lives. The truth was- no matter how easy it was to try to pretend otherwise- _he_ _wasn’t worth it_. He wasn’t worth their time, or their effort. He was a hopeless cause, so it was better to keep them at arm’s length then have him hurt them in the long run.

He knew that he was so fucking selfish for doing this, because didn’t they deserve to see how fucked up he really was. He couldn’t even say “I love you” to his family, for fuck’s sake. He really was a loveless monster, and his friends didn’t have to be subjected to that side of him. Besides, he didn’t need love in his life. After all, what had it ever done for him? The only being he truly cared about in his life was Buddy, and he knew that his companion didn’t have much time left regardless. Then he would be left with no one- his siblings all had their own shit to deal with, while the rest of his friends were either gone or didn’t know enough about his personal life to care. He preferred it that way, too; he had always taken care of himself well enough and didn’t need anyone disrupting that.

He picked himself off of the floor- _When did I get down here?_ \- and lumbered over to his kitchen, pouring himself some coffee that had undoubtedly already lost its warmth. His face twitched in distaste as the first bit of the bitter drink touched his tongue, but he took another swig regardless.

After all, it seemed all he lived on was caffeine these days anyways, and that was working for him too (or so he told himself). He didn’t see how unkempt his hair had become, or how his cheekbones hollowed out unhealthily, his eyes haunted and empty. All the Masked Gamer saw was his productivity with his channel and his Twitch streams, no matter the damage done to his person. Besides, he knew that his fanbase was one of the best on YouTube and he cherished them dearly, trying to show his appreciation through an increase in content.  

As he choked down the last bits of the honestly revolting drink, he readied himself for another all-nighter filled with editing and maybe even a stream session if he was lucky. _Besides_ , he reasoned with himself, _I’ll be able to sleep on the plane to California tomorrow_ \- never mind that the flight was only four and half hours long. _I’ve slept less before._ That was true, too. His sleeping schedule was completely fucked due to his commitment to post a video every day (and stream almost as often on top of that). He didn’t mind, though. He had gotten used to it, and it didn’t affect him as much as it had when he had first started out. _Practice makes perfect, right?_

As he trudged back over to his desk to begin editing his latest Garry’s Mod video, he pondered what would happen if they ever found out that ‘Ray’, the “fan” they took pictures with every year, was actually him. He shook his head at the thought- it would never happen; he would make sure of it. Because pure, good people like his friends didn’t go along with worthless monsters like him- they never had and never would. It didn’t matter, anyways. _I’m fine._

-

He ended up streaming for almost six hours that night and only stopped when he could no longer ignore the sun streaming through his windows, casting a soft glow over his apartment. He turned his monitors off and leaned back in his creaking office chair, rubbing his eyes in a mechanical movement. He was honestly surprised when he practically collapsed after (attempting) to walk to his kitchen to make a sandwich he could take on the drive to the airport. His hand clenched into a fist in annoyance; he couldn’t be this weak, could he? _I’m fine._

He forced himself to get up, made his peanut butter and honey sandwich before quickly brushing his teeth and hopping into his car, hoping to the fucking heavens that he wouldn’t miss his flight. His videos were queued up, so he wouldn’t have to worry about content during his four-day trip. At least his subscribers would be happy with the content while he was gone, which would make it all worth it.

He ended up boarding his plane to Los Angeles at the last minute, slightly out of breath from running across what felt like the entire fucking airport. So, gasping for air, he gave his ticket to be scanned and boarded the plane. _Thank the gods I didn’t miss it._

He didn’t end up sleeping much on the flight to Los Angeles, if he was being honest with himself. It didn’t matter, though, did it? It wasn’t like he couldn’t get sleep when he got there. He’d be fine, honestly.

He trudged into his hotel room, dragging his spare bags behind him, barely able to stand up at this point. He collapsed on the bed, ignoring the oddly stained corner of the sheets- he had stayed in worse places before. It didn’t bother him anymore; luxury hadn’t ever been something he needed or desired, anyways.

“I’ll just sleep for a little while,” he mumbled to the empty room, hearing his voice echo slightly from the hollow loneliness he felt at his solitude. Hadn’t he wanted this? Hadn’t he told his friends that he simply wanted privacy and used that excuse every time the topic of his anonymity came up? _Fuck,_ he really was pathetic. He couldn’t even admit it to himself, not even as the deafening silence of his hotel room threatened to pull him under.

He shivered suddenly, the cold seeping through his bones even though it was plenty warm from the Californian sun.

“What is wrong with me?” he voiced, nothing answering him but the slight hum of the air conditioning across the room.

He sighed in resignation as a hollow feeling manifested in the pit of his, before succumbing to a restless sleep.

-

Ryan shot out of bed, a scream ghosting his lips. He looked wildly around his room, ragged breaths ripping out of his chest- he felt like he had run a marathon. As he realized where he was, he calmed down a little, lowering himself back onto the slightly scratchy sheets.

He clenched his hands into tight fists to stop them from shaking uncontrollably, leaving crescent imprints gouged into the flesh of his palm. _My name is Ryan,_ he told himself, trying to keep himself sane and grounded. _I am known as The Masked Gamer, have a dog named Buddy and I am fine- I’m coping._ His hands started shaking at his last statement- he was such a fucking liar.

He clenched his fists tighter, telling himself that he’d sort himself out later. _But you always say that, don’t you, you coward,_ a part of him whispered, and Ryan gave into the voice, to the demons lurking inside of him.

He stared blankly at the bare ceiling above him, shaking with suppressed sobs as the tears pooled in his eyes and streamed down his face. _I can’t take this anymore,_ he thought to himself, laying his head sideways into his lumpy pillow.

His eyes stung from the force of his self-imposed misery, yet he couldn’t find it into himself to ask for help from anyone- he had always taken care of himself and that’s the way it had always been. That was how it _had_ to be.

A loud banging sound startled him, forcing him out of his self-loathing torment. He stumbled over to the door, opening it to a young woman dressed in ripped jeans and a faded t-shirt. She blew a bubble of gum before popping it and chewing it loudly again, looking up at him disinterestedly.

“D’ya need ya room cleaned?” She drawled, cocking her head to the side and leaning up against a cart filled with various cleaning supplies.

Ryan stared at her blearily, still feeling detached from reality- from _everything_. He shook his confusion off, smiling at her slightly.

“Sure, I was about to leave anyways,” he responded, purposefully injecting humour into his tone to drive her off from any concern about the inconsistencies in his behavior. He stepped back, grabbing his phone and headphones and mock saluted her as he walked out the door. Just as he rounded a corner in the hallway, he glanced back at the now empty corridor- he always felt embarrassed when people would see even the aftereffects of his occasional breakdowns. Well, his not-so-occasional breakdowns, seeing as they were happening more and more often.

A short, slightly maniacal laugh tore out of his throat unwillingly at his train of thought- he really was an idiot, because who was he kidding? He was far from fine, and he had been trying to convince himself otherwise for years. He supposed there was a bitter irony that he realized it _here,_ the place where all of his problems had originated. Because he was such a fucking coward that he couldn’t tell them who he was; he couldn’t just _let them know_ that he had been in front of them the entire time. Jesus, he was so pathetic.

His hands started shaking again, and he shoved them into his pockets with feverish, jerky movements, dragging his earbuds out and putting them in, not able to wait before he could finally drown his thoughts out again. Like he said earlier, he’d deal with all of this later- his idiotic insecurities didn’t matter, really. _I’m fine._

He wiped the back of his sleeve across his blurring vision, feeling scared and lonely all at once, willing to do anything and everything to bite back the pain-filled tears. It felt like no matter what he did, he couldn’t escape his wandering mind.

Ryan picked up the pace, walking off towards the setting sun, set on making himself numb, until he couldn’t feel anything anymore.

-

There they were, laughing with each other- so close yet so far away. Mini had his head thrown back in a howl of laughter at something Tyler had said, judging by the tall man’s smug disposition. Evan was looking on as if he wasn’t sure whether to join the Englishman’s mirth or roll his eyes at the duo’s antics. Scotty and Marcel were hunched together with laser-focused expressions, playing rock-paper-scissors as Anthony, Lui and Arlan cheered them on in loud, over exaggerated voices that soared over the din in the large room. Brian had just arrived and was introducing Nogla to his best friend Sean. Their eyes filled suppressed laughter as Nogla face suddenly became indignant at something Brian said before they all burst into uncontrollable laughter, clutching at each other in an attempt to stay upright.

Ryan’s lips lifted upwards automatically at the sight at most of his friends joking around with each other; their joy was infectious to him and for a second he forgot that he wasn’t with them. He forgot that he didn’t have _the right_ to be with them. His eyes hollowed out at the thought, the light leaving their depths.

He shook himself of his intruding thoughts, starting over to where they were all standing. He was glad that he had arrived so early so that there wasn’t a line yet- most people didn’t start arriving at the convention until about 10 o’clock.

Mini was the first one to notice him heading towards them, greeting him with a bright smile and an cheerfully exclaimed “Hello!” Tyler and Evan followed suit, giving him their own acknowledgements.

Ryan felt lighter all of a sudden, his lips twitching upwards briefly as he asked, “Do you mind if I take a picture?”

-

Clutching the photos they had taken in his hand, Ryan walked down the sidewalk, humming to himself. He felt better for having the courage to approach them, lighter even, but the voices were still there to hold him back, to tell him that he wasn’t good enough for them and that he would only drag them down.

So what was the truth? Ryan sure as hell didn't know; just thinking about it made his heart heavy and his head hurt.

He stepped into a coffee shop, and ordered the first caffeinated drink he saw on the menu. He sat down in the corner of the café, disjointedly grabbing his cup of coffee when called, still lost in a haze of confusion. Because that was what this was really; confusing. He couldn't sort his emotions out, nor his opposing thoughts. Was he worth it? He couldn't tell; he had no idea how to even _start_ to figure any of this out.

Shaking his head dazedly, he got up, making his way for the exit. He pushed the door open, looking down at the handle and therefore missing the person standing right in front of him.

_Shit!_

His head snapped up, an apology on his lips, before he realized he had just bumped into Tyler and he stumbled over his words in surprise.

“S-sorry man,” he got out, smiling in what he hoped was in a disarming way- he didn't want to bring more attention to himself then he had already.

Tyler smiled down at him- damn his ridiculously tall frame- waving off his concerns. “Nah, don't worry ‘bout it- I'm just so fucking tall that people miss me.” He chuckled at that, and Ryan was trying to find an opening to leave the situation when his giant-of-a-friend spoke again.

“Wait dude, haven't I met you before?” Tyler asked, his eyes widening in realization. Ryan almost groaned aloud- the last thing he had wanted was to bring attention to himself.

Luckily, before Tyler could say anymore on the subject the rest of their friends walked into the coffee shop. Mini made a beeline for the counter, wasting no time in indulging in his love for all things caffeine as the rest of the group piled in around them.

Ryan found himself in the middle of the smiling, laughing group of friends and was once again overwhelmed with a hollow feeling he just couldn't seem to get rid of no matter how hard he tried. What the hell was wrong with him?

A panicky feeling clawed its way up from his gut, fluttering around his chest before it tried to rip and tear its way out of his throat as he stared around him with wide, shining eyes.

“You good dude?” Tyler asked, lightly bumping his shoulder into him as his he glanced at Ryan out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah,” Ryan bullshitted, chuckling slightly to try to ease the tension only he could feel. He didn't notice Tyler’s eyes widening in recognition at his laughter, as the American played it off, shooting a crooked smile at him.

“If you say so,” he said before walking away with feigned ease, giving Ohm the space he obviously thought he needed. There would be more time to knock sense into the Chicago native’s skull later, but for now he would let him deal with whatever insecurities he had (as it was clear that Ryan was pretty fucking nervous around them). Now that he had met him, there was no way in hell Tyler would let their troubled friend stay without them.

He watched Ryan walk out the café door sadly, glancing to the side as Craig walked up to him, coffee in hand.

“That was Ohm, wasn't it?” the twenty one year-old asked as they watched Ryan’s figure fade away into the all-encompassing sunlight.

Tyler nodded, a frown marring his face. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, unable to get past the lump that had suddenly appeared. “Yeah it was.”

They turned back to their group with troubled expressions, both thinking about their friend who clearly hadn’t been alright- by any sense of the word.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, everyone! I've just been caught up with other things and so writing kinda got pushed to the side for a while (and I wanted to restructure some of the plot points for personal reasons). *shrug* Anyways, here's the 2nd chapter for hide and seek... which I now realize is gonna be more than just three chapters xD
> 
> Beta: Raakxhyr on tumblr :D (they're amazing!!! <3)

In a dark room only illuminated by the hazy glow of the computer screen, a brown head of hair buried itself deeper under warm covers, puffs of air escaping slightly chapped lips. The figure shifted in their sleep, illuminating lightly heat-flushed cheeks and highlighting the freckles splashed across the bridge of a well-defined nose. 

A ringing sound suddenly permeated the otherwise silent room, the phone vibrating periodically along with it. 

Jonathan groaned, reaching over clumsily in an attempt to grab the offending object. He held the device in a loose grip as he answered in a low, gravely, sleep-induced tone. 

“H’llo?” he grumbled, his senses still dulled and hazy from slumber. 

“Jon?” Ryan’s shaking voice sounded uncertainly through the receiver, and Jonathan sobered up immediately, worry clouding his expression. What the fuck was going on for  _ Ryan  _ to sound like that, who was one of the most laid back, easy-going guys he knew? 

“What’s up?” he questioned, concern coloring his tone.  _ Something isn't right _ , he thought to himself, a feeling of unease pervading his mind.  _ Something is really fucking wrong here.  _

He knew that if he asked directly, his friend would clam up instinctively, pretending that everything was just fine even when it clearly  _ wasn't. _

Ryan let out another shaky breath, laughing self-deprecatingly into the receiver. “Never mind; I‘m sorry I woke you up! ” he said with false cheer, berating himself for disturbing Jonathan in the first place. Why had he ever called? His thoughts spiraled into mad hysteria, his mind racing frantically for a reason, something,  _ anything  _ to keep him sane and grounded. 

“Ohm, what the fuck is going on?” Jonathan’s voice reverberated through the receiver again, bringing him back to the present. 

_ Fuck.  _ He was going to have to lie again; he didn't want to bring Jon into this shit, but he didn't quite know how to-

“And no fucking lying either, Ry’. I'll know if you do.” Jonathan wasn’t about to let Ryan descend into that fear and uncertainty.  _ Not on my fuckin’ watch,  _ he thought, determined.

Ryan’s fingers tapped against his jean-clad thigh nervously.  _ Where do I even start?  _

“I-I… I don't know,” Ryan’s eyebrows scrunched up in confusion and frustration, unable to sort through his maelstrom of emotions. How would he even be able to explain anything that had happened when he wasn't really sure what was going on himself? 

“Why dont’chyu start at the beginning? That’s usually a good place,” Jonathan suggested, a southern drawl curling the edge of his softened tone. 

As Ryan tried to create some form of organizing his thoughts, Jonathan raked his fingers through his tousled hair and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood, trudging to his feet and blearily tugging on a pair of sweatpants as he lumbered towards the kitchen. 

He shifted his phone to nestle it between his ear and shoulder, leaning slightly to the left so it wouldn't fall down. Spying a cup of unfinished “coffee” from about five hours earlier, Jonathan grabbed it greedily, downing it in one go. He shuddered as the admittedly crappy, less-than-warm caffeinated concoction made its way down his throat, though he hummed contentedly as he immediately felt much more attentive. His shoulder’s popped soothingly as he raised his arms above his head to stretch out his sleep-stiff limbs. 

“I don't even know how to-” Ryan made a frustrated sound and Jonathan’s lip curled up at the corners from the sound. He knew exactly what his panicked friend was trying to say, as he himself was spastic at best and downright incoherent at times with his wording. It was something that had drove his teachers to near insanity whenever he had spoken up in class, although Luke had always thought it was fucking hilarious, the asshole. 

“Then we’ll just talk about somethin’ else until you can,” Jonathan licked his lips distractedly. “Uh,” He floundered for something to say for a moment before deciding to stick with the obvious. “Where are you righ’ now? Like, describe where you are,” he hesitated, hoping that this would be enough- he wasn’t a fucking therapist but he would try his goddamn best to help anyways. 

“Um,” Ryan looked around, squinting at his darkening surroundings. “A few blocks away from my hotel, I think. I recognize some of the graffiti on the walls.” He huffed out a laugh, tucking his feet father underneath him in an attempt to feel a little more comfortable. “I’m in a fucking alleyway, Jon. I don’t even know how I got here or even how long I’ve been here. I-” His voice cracked and faltered under the weight of his uncertainties. “I don’t know what to do, Jon. I can’t fucking take this; I don’t know and I can’t fucking- just, please. Tell me what to do.” He slumped forwards in a defeated movement, his cheek resting on the top his thighs. A slow, pained breath puffed past Ryan’s lips and he harshly dragged the heel of his hands across his eyelids to get rid of the tears already forming there.  _ I’m so fucking stupid,  _ he thought to himself, his heart pounding like a the beat of some crappy club remix that kept on getting faster. 

He damn-well knew what had happened, as he’d had them ever since- well, he’d had them for a long fucking time. These freak-outs, as he called them, happened every once in a while. But that was a fucking lie, too, wasn’t it? They were happening way too frequently for them to be anything but often. Fuck. 

Ryan brought his shaking fingers up, slowly, towards his face. He bit his trembling bottom lip in a nervous, absent gesture, the salt from his tears staining his tongue. He closed his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones. “Please,” he whispered into the receiver. 

Ryan’s ragged breath broke the deafening silence. His vision blurred and burned, tears slowly clawing their way down his face. He shouldn’t have been so fucking obvious; Jon was gonna hate him now. Fucking fuck- 

“Of course,” Jonathan rasped out from the other end of the line. He paused before chuckling lowly; the sound came out gravely, low and distinctly hollow. “Till the end, Ry’,” Jonathan promised, a bitter smile coating his lips. “No matter what fuckin’ happens.” 

Ryan exhaled shakily, looking out towards the setting summer sun. “Okay,” he uttered, his voice deathly quiet. 

“Okay,” Jonathan repeated, rubbing a hand over his face, his thoughts already flying a-mile-a-minute. “Here’s what we’re gunna do.” 

-

_ Breath in. Breath out.  _

Jonathan looked up at the small apartment complex, his stomach fluttering endlessly. He swallowed, hard, before making his way up the stairwell. It was one thing to suggest coming out to Chicago, and another thing entirely to stand outside of the door to Ryan’s apartment. Jonathan bit his lower lip, nervously, and knocked. 

Nothing. 

Jonathan frowned, confused, and knocked again. 

Still nothing. 

What? He was sure he had the right address, so why wasn’t Ohm answering? 

He tried knocking several times more with the same result.  _ Fuck, what if he’s in trouble? _ Jonathan thought to himself. Cautiously, he tested the door handle and the door swung open easily.  _ Shit, that’s not a good sign. What if he’s hurt?  _

Panicking, his thoughts cluttered and scattered, he stepped into the apartment. 

The room itself was warm and light, a lamp in the corner casting soft shadows over the cream-colored walls. He vaguely categorized a sprawling couch and entertainment center to his right, while a dark countertop overlooked a small kitchen on his left. His gaze flickered from side to side, hoping for a sign of movement, for a sign that Ryan was okay. He clenched his trembling hand into a tight fist, his eyes tight with tension.  _ Find him, find him, find him,  _ his mind chanted hauntingly, a shiver creeping down his spine at the thought of never seeing the brown-haired idiot again. 

Jonathan exhaled, his breath shaky on the way out. He continued forwards, beyond the main room. Step by step, slowly, softly, the edge of his shoes sinking into the carpeted hallway. He forced himself to shake off the jetlag-induced exhaustion, instead focusing on the slight buzz of caffeine darting through his system. His mind turned sharp with a laser-precision, his vision adjusting to the shadows creeping over the windowless hallway. He passed one door, then two, then three, slinking past them easily. His footsteps were inaudible, even in the eerie silence of the empty apartment. 

_ Breath in. Breath out.  _ He could do this- he had to. Jonathan crept around the edge of the door, hoping to see something,  _ anything _ , through the spaces of the doorframe. His mouth tightened- nothing. The room was too dark for him to see anything. His muscles wound up, coiling and tensing restlessly. He opened the door slowly, silently, his body strung tight with nervous tension. The dimming light from the hallway splayed over the bodies under dark covers and- Jonathan relaxed immediately, relieved beyond belief. 

Buddy, Ohm’s Jack Russell terrier, lifted his head up from between his paws and regarded Jonathan silently, assessing. His head titled to the side and he blinked once, twice, before tucking himself back deeper into the body next to him. Jonathan’s breath caught, his nerves coming back full-force now that he realized just who he was standing next to. Ohm- Ryan, who looked like he had fought through hell and back. 

Bruising streaked across the skin underneath his the closed lids of his eyes, and his chestnut hair was tangled, stray locks plastered to his sweaty forehead. Small breaths rattled in and out out of cracked lips and dark lashes rested against flushed cheekbones. No wonder Ryan had never offered to show them a picture of himself; they would’ve known something was wrong right away. Jonathan doubted that anyone else would have noticed the difference, but to him it was crystal clear: Ryan was running himself into the ground and no one was there to help him. 

He clenched his hands reflexively, breathing out a deep sigh. First things first, he would make something for Ohm to eat when he woke up. Besides, Jonathan couldn’t keep staring at him like some creepy-ass motherfucker. He reached over, raking his fingers through Buddy’s short fur comfortingly.  _ Don’t worry,  _ he thought silently to Ryan’s slumbering companion,  _ I’m gonna do everything I fuckin’ can to help him. I promise.  _

As Jonathan backed out of the dark bedroom, a smile ghosted his lips despite his somber mood. It was nice to see Ryan, finally. 

-

Ryan awoke to the sound of cursing and something that sounded suspiciously like pots banging together. Repeatedly. 

“What the fuck?” he mumbled, still half-asleep. He lifted himself up to a sitting position, trying to clear through the sleep-induced haze that had taken over his mind. He rubbed a hand down down his face blearily, swinging himself out of bed and ambling down the lowly illuminated hallway. He looked to the right when he got to the main room, stopping straight out when he noticed the figure darting around his kitchen like a madman, cursing every so often. His mouth opened slightly in complete surprise, his eyes wide with shock. “D-Delirious?” he stuttered, able to recognize that rambling voice anywhere. 

The dark-haired man turned suddenly, revealing wide blue eyes and lips that stretched into a wide, lopsided smile. “Hey, Ohm- su’prise!” Jonathan exclaimed, rocking back onto his heels and then back forwards, his smile suddenly turning sheepish as he looked back to the kitchen behind him. “I-I tried to make ya somethin’ for when ya woke up, but it didn’t quite work.” He chuckled, loud and free. “I can’t cook for shit,” Jonathan’s smile turned softer as he looked Ryan up and down, who was still standing there like a goddamned idiot. 

Ryan, still feeling like this was a dream of some sort, stepped forwards, one step at a time, before he was right in front of Jonathan, buzzing with an ecstatic form of nervous energy. 

Jonathan looked up at him, his eyes bright and expectant and Ryan lunged, engulfing the other in a bone-crushing hug. “I can’t believe you actually came,” Ryan laughed breathily. 

“Of course I did, Bunny-man,” Delirious mumbled against the fabric of Ryan’s t-shirt, a soft, affectionate smile curling the edge of his lips. 

In response, Ryan just held him a little bit tighter, a little bit closer, and Jonathan let him. Besides, he didn’t mind- Ryan’s hug made the world a little bit brighter, a little bit more bearable, and so he let himself bask in it, just this once. 

-

Later that evening, Jonathan stepped outside onto the rickety stairway outside Ohm’s apartment, relishing in the feeling of the summer breeze running its way through his hair. The lights flickered above him, but it didn’t creep him out like he was sure it would have usually. He doubted that anything could make him anything less than ecstatic at the moment, not when he had just spent the last three hours attempting to make spaghetti with Ohm- Ryan, who was so bright and filled with laughter that it hurt to think just how miserable he had been. He wasn’t suggesting that everything would be completely okay from now on. No, Jonathan knew that it would take a long-ass time for Ryan to figure out how to heal and an even longer for Ryan to allow himself to get better. There was no chance in hell that everything was completely fine, but that was okay, too. Jonathan would be there the entire way, day after day, helping and supporting Ryan until he was no longer welcome. 

Jonathan let himself lean across the metal railing, eyeing the cracked, peeling white paint covering it distractedly. He was going to go back inside in a minute or two, he knew, but for the moment it was nice to see some of the stars shining through Chicago’s hazy skyline. He sighed, completely content. 

His phone buzzed absently in the back pocket of his faded jeans and he brought it up to his ear, answering it with a lazy “Whu’s up?” 

“How is he?” Luke asked immediately. Jonathan opened his mouth to respond when Luke cut back in with, “And the other guys know, Jonny. Tyler, the sunuva bitch, recognized his voice when they were at E3.” 

Jonathan blinked. Well, that changed things. “He’s alright, but he’s gonna need some time to himself. So, for the time being, the rest of y’all can’t come barging up here like the crazy mutherfuckas I know y’ are,” Jonathan smirked, falling back into the familiar push-and-pull banter that he and Luke had used since they were kids. 

“Say that again, ya greedy-ass bitch,” Luke shot back immediately, continuing with a wicked grin he could feel through the phone. “You just wanna keep him all to yourself, Jonny. Jesus, have you let him fuck you already?” 

Jonathan cracked up, his laughter echoing through the dark alleyways. “F-fuck you, ya ass,” he got out, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably, 

“Nah, I ain’t getting in the middle of you and Ohm’s sex life, Jonny,” Luke teased, chuckling along with him. 

Jonathan wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes and sighed, small giggles escaping every now and again. “I fuckin’ miss you, ya ass,” Jonathan grinned, leaning back against the door of Ohm’s apartment. 

“What’s that? You miss my ass?” Luke hollered through the phone. 

“You fuckin’ wish, ya horny-ass bitch,” Jonathan taunted, a grin edging the side of his mouth. 

Luke snorted. “Look, I have to go ‘cause the guys are startin’ to wonder where the hell I am, but take care of him for us. He needs ya, no matter how he tries to pretend otherwise.” 

Jonathan nodded, suddenly serious. “I know. I will,” he said softly. 

Luke hung up the phone and Jonathan stepped back into the apartment lit up with a warmth he couldn’t help but love. 

-

Jonathan gazed around the main room with a soft smile and called out, “Ohm?” They were supposed to play a round of Mario Kart together and he was wanted to kick Ryan’s ass. So where was he? Ryan had promised that he would do Mini’s ketchup challenge if he lost and that was something Jonathan did not want to miss. 

“Ryan?” he called out, hoping for an answer. Nothing. The smile faded from his face and his brow furrowed.  _ Where the fuck are you?  _ He thought with in confusion. It wasn’t like the apartment was very large to begin with. He wandered down the hall, hoping Ryan was just in one of the other rooms. 

“Buddy?” Jonathan called out, confused; he thought he had heard the Jack Russell terrier whimpering beyond the door to Ryan’s bedroom. 

Jonathan opened the wooden door and cursed. The light from the hallway behind him shone upon Ryan, who was curled up on the floor, trembling from head to toe. He sat in a near-crouch, his back pressed into the wooden frame of his bed. Buddy was on the side farthest away from Jonathan, pressed up against Ryan’s side, whimpering into the empty stillness of the room. 

Jonathan darted over to Ryan, sinking to his knees immediately so he could get to him in the fastest way possible. 

“Fuck,” Jonathan muttered, gently pulling an unresponsive Ryan back into his chest. Ryan cried out, jerking and thrashing uncontrollably. “Shit, shit, shit, Ry’,” Jonathan mumbled, drawing back slightly so he didn’t cause any more damage. 

He sat on the carpeted ground next to Ryan and whispered words of comfort, love and support, his thumb running up and down Ryan’s nearest shoulder affectionately.  _ It’s okay,  _ he tried to say as Ryan’s breath lay ragged with dry, heaving sobs.  _ I’m here and I’m never gonna leave you- ‘promise.  _ Slowly, slowly, Jonathan was able to get close enough to Ryan to draw him back against his chest, his arms circling around the other protectively. Ryan buried his tear-streaked face against the planes of Jonathan’s shoulder, still breathing those harsh, ragged breaths that tore away at Jonathan’s soul. 

Jonathan’s features hardened as he rested his cheek against the dark crown of Ryan’s head, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on Ryan’s lower back. He didn’t care- he would fucking kill whoever had- 

“J-Jonathan?” Ryan rasped out, his voice hoarse from the mantra of “Please, please- no. I’ll be good. I’m good; I’m fine. Please,” he had cried out continuously in the throes of the attack. 

“Yeah?” Jonathan murmured quietly, relieved beyond belief. 

“Wh… what happened? I-I don’t- I can’t,” he got out, his fingers tightening in their grip on Jonathan’s thigh. 

“You had a panic attack, Ry’,” Jonathan sighed, breathing in the scent from Ryan’s shampoo.  _ He’s okay, he’s safe,  _ he repeated to himself, the tension easing out of his frame with every passing second. 

Ryan stiffened. “W-What?” he laughed, although it sounded distinctly hollow to Jonathan. “It couldn’t have been; I don’t-”

“Luke used t’have them,” Jonathan interrupted. Ryan drew his face back from Jonathan’s t-shirt, looking up at him in confusion. 

In response, Jonathan shrugged. “They used to come out of nowhere, whenever something reminded him of his Dad. Me an’ ma sister would just hold him until he remembered that we were there and he wouldn’t be left behind again.” Luke hadn’t had any attacks for years, but Jonathan knew the memories had always stayed with him, lingering and haunted. 

“Okay,” Ryan breathed out, accepting. Jonathan hid his smile in the shadows of the darkened room. 

“And we’ll get through them as they come,” Jonathan promised. 

Ryan nodded slightly, his cheek once again pressed against the plane of Jonathan’s chest. Jonathan gripped him a little bit tighter, sighing softly. Later - later, they would get up and move on, healing bit by bit until they were whole again. But for now, Jonathan was content to lay on the floor of this darkened bedroom and hold onto Ryan for just a little while longer. In that moment, the world could go fuck itself for all he cared; he had all he needed right there in that little room, lit only by the ever-glowing light of the moon. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo... those six months went by quickly, didn't they? Sorry about that I'll try to never have that long of a break between chapters again.. I just got super busy with school and then my mental health went down the drain for a while haha. A couple weeks ago I finally found the motivation to write again and cranked out almost 7k for this chapter :D I was gonna wait until my beta, Raaky, was done with their finals but a bunch of you wanted this chapter out earlier, unbeta'd.  
> \--  
> New things that are happening in this chapter that I wanna mention:  
> 1\. This is officially gonna be a friends-to-lovers slowburn "hOW ARE THEY SO OBLIVIOUS" fic.  
> 2\. I casually made Delirious latinx.. It's kinda lowkey bc I'm not latinx myself and don't wanna misrepresent/disrespect their culture. That being said, if any of you readers are and something I write is over the line/inaccurate, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. I wanna bring good, unoffensive content to you guys <3  
> 3\. This fic is probably gonna drag out and be long as hell (I'm calling it now lmao)  
> 4\. Enjoy!! I love all of you guys <3  
> \--  
> ADDITIONAL: The basis for Ohm's anxiety is my own (which isn't the stereotypical version of it... I don't think.. so I'm gonna explain it a bit lmao). My anxiety isn't so much centered around social interactions if I'm comfortable with the setting or it feels familiar to me. It mostly revolves around varying forms of self-hatred bc of various forms of bs that I've had/have in my life. This basically means that I trigger into crappy mental states pretty easily (from stray thoughts, things I hear or otherwise). Panic attacks are included in this and they usually happen together in succession (aka one after the other) and then they stop for a longer period of time. I just wanted to include this bc I think it'll help explain Ohm's back-and-forth mental state in this chapter and moving forwards.

As Ryan slowly became aware of the world around him, feeling more well-rested than he had in months, he arched back, stretching out his sleep-stiffened limbs. He vaguely registered the warm body resting behind him and the comforting weight of Jonathan’s arm wrapped around his side, fingertips brushing the edge of Ryan’s hip where his shirt had slid up during the night.

Secretly, Ryan let himself relax back into his friend’s comforting hold, wanting this feeling of warm belonging to last a little bit longer. The heavy weight of Jonathan’s arm draped across his body should have felt uncomfortable, but wasn't somehow.

He had gotten used to Jonathan’s physical presence in practically no time, similar to how they had become such fast friends when they had originally started playing together. It even felt surreal that Jonathan had only arrived the day before; Ryan already craved the comfort and brightness that Jonathan naturally exuded.

Honestly, it was kind of strange; who knew that having Jonathan around, who was generally the most unstable of their group, would help keep him feel more grounded than he’d felt in a long while? He definitely hadn’t, but was grateful for Jonathan’s presence nonetheless. It was… nice, he supposed. That was, having one of his best friends physically _there, right next to him,_ instead of across the country, their only interactions through late-night voice calls and recording sessions.

Ryan’s eyes softened imperceptibly as he thought to himself, secretly hoping that he could be selfish and keep Jonathan with him for as long as he wanted- for forever.

Who was he kidding though? Jonathan would get tired of him. Most people did, it seemed. Which turned out okay for him in the end because he had a wonderful group friends that were able to put up with him now. Most of the time. Which Jonathan was a part of. Fuck, that was confusing. Ryan’s forehead creased and he sighed, a low buzz of uncertainty still skimming under his skin.

He still felt uncomfortable but knew he had to get up, no matter how much he’d like to stay, cocooned under fuzzy blankets, for the rest of the morning. So he drew himself away from Jonathan's sleeping form, careful not to wake him up, and settled himself a few feet away, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table in front of him. As Ryan relaxed into the soft couch cushions, grabbing his glasses off of the coffee table, he tried to match the slow, steady breathing of Jonathan, who was still sleeping beside him. Slowly and steadily he relaxed into the cushions and started to contemplate what had happened last night.

It was hard to remember, really; one minute, he had been laughing his ass off with Jon in his mess of a kitchen (an unfortunate casualty in their quest for homemade pasta and redsauce) and having the time of his life. Suddenly, he had felt distinctly uncomfortable within his own skin, their combined laughter becoming grating in seconds. His mental state had spiraled downwards rapidly afterwards, until the next thing he knew, changing into a clean shirt had turned into too much, all too fast. The familiar hazy edges of numbness laced with bone-rattling fear and panic had started to emerge before he could even hope to stop it. He had sunk to the floor and just.. stayed there, trapped within his own mind.

He couldn't even remember much past the overwhelming blank nothingness that had quickly overtaken him as his mind crested higher and higher into self-loathing and the shaking feeling of _oh gods no fuck not again_ . He didn't know how long he had stayed there on the freezing-cold floor, his breaths coming in faster, faster, _sharper,_ before it hurt, it was _too much_ and he _couldn't fucking breathe_.

His vision had fogged over, only able to stare blankly ahead of him until he could no longer focus, could no longer see, the white haze of panicked nothingness overcoming him, taking over- _Fuck._ Ryan shivered, his palms clammy and his heart pounding a-mile-a-minute.

He turned to the side, helping Buddy up next to him, petting him in a slow, rhythmical pattern. _Back and forth, back and forth, slow, slow, soft and nice,_ until he gained back some semblance of normalcy. He lost himself to that rhythm, lost his lingering fear and clammy palms to it, so by the time Jonathan started to move and open his eyes blearily, Ryan felt calm again. He felt normal again; he felt fine.

Laying back on his side, Jonathan ran his fingers through his hair, his face still smooth and serene from sleep-induced lethargy. Ryan stared while Jonathan yawned, slow and lazy, stretching out like a house cat before letting his jaw snap shut again. He looked over at Ryan, rubbing his stubble-ridden cheek tiredly as he sat up, the light from a patch of sunlight reflecting against the shaded blue of his irises.

“You feelin’ alrigh’ Ry’?” He mumbled, his words slurred, his movements still slow as his body woke up, little by little. He turned to the side, propping himself up on his arm, clearly waiting for a response.

Ryan flushed slightly, still feeling embarrassed. "Better? I guess? It’s hard to tell ‘cause I don't really have a gage for this or remember all of it, really,” he laughed nervously. “You helped tons, though. I remember that much,” he smiled, looking down to where his fingers were tapping out a nervous, sporadic rhythm across his thighs.

“Good,” Jonathan yawned, his gaze roaming lazily over Ryan’s curled form beside him. “’Cause remember, Ry’,” he continued lethargically, “the only reason I’m here is ‘cause I wanna be, which means ch-you-yu’re not gonna get rid of me anytime soon. Got it? I ain’t goin’ nowhere, bunny-man.”

Ryan looked up, and glanced at Jonathan’s low, but no less serious stare. Ryan quickly switched to an unfocused gaze at the bare wall behind the couch and nodded. A warm feeling cascaded through his chest, chasing out the lingering panic and numbness.

Jonathan’s lips pulled into a crooked grin and he slowly clambered off of the couch and onto his feet. He stretched out his arms and closed his eyes, exposing a part of his caramel-smooth skin. Ryan fidgeted from his position on the couch. A couple seconds later, though, Jonathan padded away, still rubbing his eyes and looking generally exhausted. As his zombie-like friend got to bustling around in the kitchen of his small apartment, Ryan supposed he just wasn't quite a morning person. He winced when, not a second later, he heard the sound of metal clanging against metal and shook his head. _Definitely not a morning person, then,_ he thought to himself, amused.

“Ry’, you up for pancakes?” Jonathan asked from the kitchen, flitting in and out of the pantry.

“Uh, sure man,” Ryan responded. He didn't usually take too much time to care about what he was eating as long as it got the job done.

“You mind gettin’ the milk out then?” Ryan nodded, getting up. He smiled and joined his madman of a friend in the inevitable destruction of his kitchen appliances.

-

A few hours later, Jonathan raised an eyebrow, confused, as the cashier gave him a judgemental glance from below her lashes. The fuck was her deal? He glanced over at Ryan, who was busy typing something out on his phone and shrugged. It was too fucking early to deal with some bullshit like that, in his opinion. He just wanted his goddamn coffee so he could function properly; was that too much to goddamn ask for? Bleh. He didn't like the way she was eyeing up Ryan either; her gaze looked slimy and predatory, just enough to make an uneasy shiver slide up his spine. Jonathan stiffened bit-by-bit as she continued to eye them up and down, feeling uncomfortable and out of his skin.

_Leave us the fuck alone, ya crazy-ass sonuva-,_ his train of thought cut off abruptly, fragmented and distorted around the edges. Slowly, he edged standing closer to Ryan as she _still_ glanced at them every now and again. Ew. He did not like this shit, nuh-uh, no thank you misses creepy cashier lady - Ryan wrapped an arm around his shoulders loosely, slipping his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

“You good, dude?” Jonathan vaguely registered Ryan’s voice beside him and slowly the coffee shop came back into focus. He looked up at his friend, and nodded, snorting amusedly.

“You should know there ain't nothing that can get my crazy-ass feelin’ down or nuthin’, creepy cashier-mothafuckers included,” Jonathan mouthed off lowly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

In response Ryan rolled his eyes slightly, base amusement shining through his otherwise casual expression. He squeezed Jonathan’s shoulder once before letting go and moving up to order. Jonathan didn't really pay attention to what Ryan was ordering, his thoughts drifting off easily. He absently ordered his own coffee, 16 full ounces of 3-shot espresso heaven. _Delicious_ , he thought hungrily. He and Ryan stepped to the side, waiting for their coffee. Ryan stepped closer to Jonathan and raised a teasing eyebrow.

“So,” he started casually, “what’s with the poison-in-a-cup?”

“Whatch’ you tryna mean there, Mr. prejudiced? Do you really hate deliciousness that much?” Jonathan teased back, smirking crookedly.

“As long as you don't hate on mine, then sure, man.” Ryan winked- _fucking winked-_ at him, the cheeky fucker.

Jonathan whirled around, looking for what Ryan was talking about, and sure enough, the barista was pouring- Jonathan made a face, disgusted beyond belief. Was that- had he really ordered a latte with extra cream and sugar? Was Ryan _trying_ to ruin his coffee?

“Got a problem with cream and sugar, Delirious?” Ryan grinned suggestively, the fuckin’ pervert. His tongue was poking out from the between his teeth, clearly trying not to die laughing in the middle of the coffeehouse. As it was, he wasn’t succeeding, small snorts and giggles escaping from him at regular intervals. Jonathan stared, mouth open comically, before shaking his head and giving into the act as well. He sauntered back up to his idiot of a friend, sighing dramatically, and flopped back over Ryan’s chest and shoulders like the goddamn drama queen he was. Ryan grinned even wider at that, catching him in his arms and holding him upright. Jonathan didn't need to be a damn mind reader to know what was _still_ going through the idiot’s head. He was even wiggling his eyebrows for damn’s sake! In retaliation, Jonathan slumped even farther down, trying to escape into the floor by turning into gooey sludge to no avail. He turned his face upwards and leveled one accusing blue eye up at his friend.

“Ruined,” he mouthed and the bottom of Ryan’s eyes lifted in wicked amusement, the corners crinkling into familiar laugh lines.

In that moment, he looked… bright, in Jonathan’s opinion. Like someone that brightened up the whole goddamn room, a far stretch from the man he had comforted and fucking _cuddled with_ because he’d gotten a goddamn anxiety attack.

Right there and then, Jonathan just  wanted to put that smile, that carefree happiness, onto Ryan's face as much as possible. And help. Help when Ryan couldn't deal, couldn't fend from all the shit that ate away at him daily. He wanted to _stay_ and help build him back up again when he knew so many people hadn't. Give him space when people became too agitating, too much, and he needed to unwind. He just wanted to _be there_ and care for Ryan, because it had goddamn hurt like a bullet wound to hear him, one of his best friends, sobbing and sounding confused- sounding so damn _lost_ \- over the phone.

And so, his mind made up, Jonathan smiled right back up at Ryan widely, crooked and full of all the affection he could muster for his friend, nerdy-framed glasses and all. Ryan smiled back just as widely, before they both dissolved into badly-stifled giggles. Jonathan attempted to smother his laughter into his clasped hands while Ryan buried his nose into Jonathan’s hair, his frame shaking in suppressed laughter.

-

After they had calmed down enough to act like normal human beings, Jonathan shimmied his way back onto his feet standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his partner in crime. He jumped excitedly into place when his order was called, Ryan right beside him. _Fuckin’ finally,_ he thought, staring over at his coffee.

Jonathan took his from the counter greedily, eyes wide with delight, babbling out a thankful response to the creep’s coworker. Ryan took his cup beside him, while Jonathan himself was still transfixed by the delicious dark, steaming liquid in his cup.

Jonathan took a sip, his body feeling closer to normal within seconds of the hot rush of caffeine spilling down his throat. The bitter taste didn't bother him anymore, honestly, though burning his tongue definitely did.

“Bleh,” he mumbled, touching a fingertip to his scorched tongue and giving a betrayed look down to his coffee cup. “Traitor,” he groused, worrying his tongue along the inside edges of his teeth to try to alleviate the pain.

Ryan leveled an amused look back at him and steered them both towards the exit with a final thanks to the barista. They untied Buddy, who had been waiting patiently outside in the increasingly frigid and gloomy weather. He gave them both a judgemental, ‘Where the hell have you two been’-kind-of-look as they took him, completed with a long, patronizing blink. How an animal could give him such a specific feeling of exasperation from one glance, Jonathan had no idea. He figured, though, that of course it was Ryan’s dog that could. That fucker had a sassy,’I ain't gonna take no shit from anybody’ attitude that had shone through even during their first Skype calls and recording sessions together. A scorned Ohmwrecker was- something, he supposed, unable to remember the goddamn quote he had wanted to slot Ryan into. Damnit, he knew it had fit perfectly too! He grumbled to himself for a moment, narrowing his eyes childishly at the ground.

He practically yelped when a wet nose, courtesy of Buddy, pushed against his ankle where his jeans had risen up only a second later. His petty anger at forgetting the quote disappeared as he picked the Jack Russell terrier up, cradling him against his chest. Buddy nuzzled into his neck gratefully, blinking languidly up at him in thanks. He moved his head and foreleg back over Jonathan’s shoulder once before settling back and relaxing, sinking down into the supportive cradle Jonathan had made with his arms. He looked over at Ryan for confirmation that he was holding Buddy right and found that his friend was already looking over at them with a soft, affectionate look in his eyes.

Jonathan’s eyes widened and he felt a deep flush take over his already caramel-brown skin. He looked sideways quickly, embarrassed, and snuggled deeper into his scarf in an attempt to hide the blush that he knew existed over the bridge of his nose and onto his cheeks. Damn his stupid genetics!

This has always goddamn happened to him, something Luke had always given shit for because it had made his crushes so goddamn obvious growing up. Not mention it happened anytime someone ever startled him by lookin’ like that too, even if it was probably completely platonic like the way Ryan was lookin’ at them. Maybe. Probably. He didn't goddamn know; they flirted all the fuckin’ time in their recording sessions but they always went back to normal shit afterwards so he could never tell. Fucking fuck. He wished Luke was here so he could help him with this shit because he did not know social queues if they smacked him in the goddamn face. He looked over at Ryan again, not sure if he was ready for what he might find there, and stopped. _Fuck_ . Ryan was still looking at them, but his expression was slowly shuttering, a strange, distant look glimmering in his eyes. _Shit shit shit that’s not good._

“Ry’?” Jonathan asked quietly, reaching a hand onto the side of his increasingly blank-faced friend gently so he didn't jostle Buddy all that much. Ryan jumped slightly, his brow creasing into an unfamiliarly lost look before he tried to wipe it away with a small, nerve-wracked smile. Jonathan didn't like that one bit. He wanted Ryan to feel whatever shit he was going through, because he had people who cared about him now that would help him out. He didn't have to cover it up anymore. _Woah there.. cool it and slow down; it’ll take some time for him to start healing_ , he reminded himself. _Patience, patience, patience._ Regardless, he kept his hand pressed lightly against Ryan’s hip, and stayed there, waiting for him to get the confidence to speak up.

“Shit, um, sorry, Delirious. I-I just,” he paused, before moving on, his words slurring together slightly as he quickly got out, “Do you think we can just- do you think you’d be okay with heading back? I just- I- I mean, I started thinking about some bad shit and I- I don't really wanna stay out here, I don't think. I-” Jonathan turned into him and slid his arm around him, slowly wearing down Ryan’s panic-babble. Buddy sniffed, lifting his snout up before nosing at the dip in Ryan’s collarbone and nuzzling there affectionately. Jonathan tilted Ryan’s head down slowly and looked directly into his widened, frazzled irises, speaking softly but firmly.

“Hey, Ry’, listen to me. Can you do that?” Ryan nodded jerkily, eyes skittering back and forth down over Jonathan’s worried eyes and brow. Jonathan sighed, running his thumb back and forth lightly over his friend’s hip in a slow, soothing pattern. “Okay, good. We’re gonna walk home right now, together, and then I’m gunna make you a cup of hot cocoa. Alrigh’, Ry’?”

Ryan breathed out deeply from his nose once, tilting his face down farther and letting his eyes shutter closed. Jonathan watched his eyelids flicker slightly, reminding him, strangely enough, of the small butterflies he and Luke used to watch flit and flutter about down by the creek growing up. When Ryan opened his eyes again, his lids lifted to reveal a flash of slightly calmer hazel. Jonathan smiled with a simple tug of his lip, his worried brow smoothing out in relief. He knew the worst of it was over with for the moment.

And so, he pulled back slowly and noticed the discomfort that came to his friend almost immediately at the loss of touch. He readjusted Buddy, who was still looking up at Ryan in concern, his ears twitching back and forth with a low whine. With Buddy comfortably resting partway over his shoulder, Jonathan stepped closer and twined their fingers together. He laughed softly at the unsure look Ryan gave him, glancing not-so-subtely down at their hands and back up at his face again.

“Got something against this, bunny-man?” Jonathan teased affectionately, holding their clasped hands up higher. The nickname did the trick and Ryan relaxed, his eyes crinkling together at the corners again.

“Nah,” Ryan smiled almost shyly, his eyes flitting downwards before looking up at Jonathan.“It helps, if I'm being honest.” Jonathan snorted and nodded; he knew exactly what Ryan was talking about. Ryan squeezed his hand once before raking the fingers from his other hand through his short, chestnut-brown hair in a half-aborted nervous gesture. “So, home?” He broke the quiet, asking Jonathan with a small, trusting smile.

“Uh-huh. Lead the way, Mr. Wrecker,” Jonathan hummed teasingly. And so, with a low-lit smile directed up to his friend beside him, Jonathan let himself be pulled towards the direction of Ryan’s apartment, their hands swinging between them.

-

Later that evening, Ryan sat, curled up on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa in his hands, just as promised. Jonathan was in the kitchen bustling about quietly, making some for himself. Buddy was napping beside him, head resting on his lap and feet tangled up in the blanket Jon had thrown over them both earlier. He snuggled further into to the soft, fuzzy fabric, content.

The heat radiating from the chipped, faded ceramic mug was warming him up from his fingertips to his palms, chasing away the cold that lingered from the rain and wind outside. The light, slow-burning warmth from the mug made its way through his body and up into a comfortable flush just underneath his skin, although he was pretty certain it was the action, not the mug itself, that was the cause. It was kind of nice to be cared for, although he loved having Jonathan with him for casual, every-day reasons too. For somehow, was just easy, to the point of being natural, to go from staying up till 3am in skype calls and their discord server, to lazing about late at night with each other on his couch, and giving into teasing banter and the over-dramatic acting that came with it. He just really liked having Jonathan around, honestly. It was so fucking nice to able to joke and hang out with him for hours on end because he lit up his apartment with bright, animated gestures and generally made life suck a little less.

And so, Ryan rebuilt himself, bit-by-bit, staring down into his mug of hot chocolate, transfixed by the way the milk slowly swirled and drifted around at the top. He thought about late-night recording sessions filled with Jon’s bright, maniacal laughter, flashes of strangled, bellowed curses from Luke, and Bryce’s silent shit-head grin he got while trolling (the one they all knew existed even without having to see his facecam). As Ryan lay curled up on his couch, he sifted through his memories of him and his best friends and decided that they were good enough to trust full heartedly, that _Jonathan_ was good enough. He loved them enough to give himself to them. To trust them.

-

By the time Jonathan made his way over to him about ten minutes later, Ryan’s mug was closer to empty but he felt fuller, more complete and whole-hearted. He’d decided that he himself might not be worth it, but his friends definitely were, so he was going to fight and claw his fucking way out of this, one way or another. He owed them that much.

“Sorry that took so long, man,” Jonathan smiled apologetically and rubbed the back of his neck, a blush making it's way onto his nose and cheeks. The growing flush darkened his skin further and accentuated the scattering of freckles that already existed on his face. His eyes shone electric yet dark and uncertain in the low light cast from the kitchen. Ryan swallowed, his heart and pride fluttering in his chest, before answering.

“Nah, you’re good, dude. I was just sitting here anyways; it's not like you missed out on much.” Ryan stopped and backtracked a bit, admitting, “Well, not too much anyways. Out loud.” His eyes widened a bit. “Shit, I-I. I mean,” he stopped and covered his face with his hands, groaning lowly. Why couldn't he just say what he wanted to say? Why did this shit always have to be so goddamn hard? He rubbed his hands back down his face in mortification. He winced as the short hairs from the bare beginnings of a beard prickled against his palms.

_Okay, focus. You can do this, Ryan_ , he told himself forcefully, repeating it over and over in his mind until he kind of believed it.

He looked up to steel himself and let out a small sigh. He saw Delirious- _Jonathan_ \- one of his best friends, sitting next to him, waiting for him to continue with a small, sleepy smile on his face. Ryan’s lips twitched up in response and he opened his mouth again and let himself speak. He rambled on, not letting himself stop for a second, not giving into his stupid, embarrassing self-consciousness. It was okay; he wasn't quite fine but it didn't mean that he couldn't turn out _okay_ in the long run. Hopefully, with Jonathan there. And maybe even with Luke and Bryce too, when he was ready, his mind supplied, a soft ‘what if’ that he hoped for with his entire being. All of his friends together in one place, happy and together like the oddly conjoined family they were.

So, hope foreshadowing every word he uttered, he rambled on about the bad shit, the stuff he normally didn't talk about. He let it all flow out: his confusion, the hazy depressive fog that permeated his thoughts on low nights, and every other shitty-feeling thing he could think of. And Jonathan sat there the entire time, hand resting supportively on Ryan in some way. On his hip, around to his lower back, on the cord of his thigh right above his knee, always moving in slow, comforting patterns. It almost felt surreal, like Jonathan himself was another figment of Ryan’s imagination he had created to try to convince himself he wasn't going insane. But that wasn't the case, somehow, and Jonathan really _was_ sitting there, head resting on his shoulder, his eyes soft and caring. He just sat there and listened, asking questions here and there, one brow furrowed in concern over deep, endlessly dark blue eyes.

And when Ryan came to the end of it, to the point where he couldn’t think of anything else to say, his thoughts run completely dry, Jonathan smiled. Not the wide, lopsided, carefree smile he often wore, accompanied by unforgettably maniacal laughter, nor the causal, soft tip of his lips he used when lost in the drifts of thought or the maze of his impossibly vast imagination. No; this time, Jonathan smiled widely and yet not much at all, the color of his lips brightening in a burst of warm light, teeth flashing straight and white behind them. All in that one moment, Ryan’s entire being focused in on that proud, bright-yet-small smile directed at him and his heart constricted with his chest. Fuck. It wasn’t even that Jon was really, _really_ fucking mesmerizingly gorgeous, though he was realizing that at the speed of an oncoming train.

_Nah_ , what was really getting to him was the full-on flood of emotions that came with the emotional upheaval he’d just partaken in. Holy fucking dog-butt McGee, he’d just spilled out all of his current emotional baggage onto one of his closest friends. A friend who, as of this moment, had not only seen some of his bad habits and tendencies, but had now heard about _all of them._ Fuck fuck fuck shit. Mother tit-fucker, jesus why did he ever think this was a good idea. Why the fuck was he such a burden fuck fuck fuck they were right they were right he wasn’t any good oh fuck why he couldn’t do anything right why fuck _no-_

Ryan’s mind blanked out as he crashed out again, mind swept to the deep end, the only tether being wide blue, _blue_ hazy eyes until his mind short-circuited again and swept him under.

_I’m fine?_

_I-_

_Am I? A-am I fine?_

-

He woke up an indefinite amount of time later, his breath coming in short, harsh and ragged. His cheek was pressed against something warm; he was lying down. Tear tracks stained his skin, the remaining ones burning and pressing down on his eyelids. Fuck. His throat was so dry it felt like it had been rubbed raw, the stinging pain lingering as a constant throbbing sensation beneath his skin. Fingers carded through his hair softly, scratching lightly against his scalp and Ryan _melted_ into the touch. He hung onto that feeling of contact, needing something to focus on after coming to and feeling so goddamn _empty._ A small sound of pure contentment slipped out of him, like his vocal cords were trying to purr but didn’t have the means. A small, breathy laugh sounded above him and Ryan tilted his head upwards lethargically, looking straight into a pair of soft, shaded blue eyes. Jonathan. Oh. _Oh,_ shit. _Um_ , he thought, deciding to say the first thing he could think of.

“Hey dude,” Ryan murmured hoarsely, his voice quiet yet impossibly loud in the stifling silence of his apartment.

“Hey, Ohm.” Jonathan smiled, his nose scrunching sleepily. He yawned, his other hand coming up to rub his cheek tiredly. He handed Ryan his glass of water, helping him crunch up slowly so he could drink it without spilling all over himself. Jonathan took the glass when he was finished, and Ryan let his head sink back onto his friend’s thighs. Jonathan sighed above Ryan, a small smile making its way into his face. “How- how’re you feeling? You kinda wore yourself out at the end there, Ry’,” he spoke lowly, a light tired flush making its way into his cheeks.

“Honestly?” Ryan shrugged awkwardly from his position on Jonathan’s lap, continuing on with his answer quietly. “Like shit, but I think that's normal. I'll be fine in a minute or two, tops, but for now this is kinda nice. Just laying here.” He paused. “What that a-another one? Another attack?” He searched imploringly for the answer in the lines on Jonathan’s face to no avail. He doubted Jonathan was really that closed off; he was probably just shit at reading people, honestly.

“I mean, yeah.” Jonathan shook his head, snorting slightly. He raised an eyebrow, looking down at Ryan. “You scared the shit out of me, man.” His face softened and he smiled that slow, tender smile down at him. It wasn't said as an accusing statement either, just an admission of pain and emotion.

“Sorry,” Ryan scrunched one eye shut, wincing out of habit. He smiled up at Jonathan abashedly, his eyebrows jumping together in apology.

Jonathan waved him off. “Nah, whatever shit you were going through back there is more important than whatever the fuck I'm feeling.”

Ryan frowned. “Not true.” Jon looked like he was going to protest so he continued quickly. “T-That's not how it works, Jon. Just because I have it worse doesn't mean that your own pain, exhaustion, and whatever else doesn't exist.” He paused. “Think about it this way- if a kid falls and breaks their wrist, they’re in pain, right? And then another kid who...,” he hummed, trying to think of an example. He continued slowly, eyes drifting in thought. “They burned their hand from a hot pan of bacon, let’s say. Put it right in there and the oil popped on ‘em.” Ryan looked up at Jonathan intently, searching. “Just because the kid who burned their hand has less pain than the one who broke their wrist doesn't mean that their hand hurts any less.” He smiled ruefully. “I mean, they still burnt their hand, right?” Jonathan nodded slowly, like he was starting to understand what Ryan was trying to get at. “Good. Just ‘cause I have some bad shit in my life _doesn't_ mean the bad shit you feel isn't there. Or just goes away. That's not how life works or how I'm ever gonna treat you, one of my-” Ryan stopped, feeling a bit like when he had when he met Delirious during their first recording session together. He felt nervous and shy; his stomach dropped out into the fluttering of butterflies. When he spoke up again, he started off quiet, his voice becoming soft and fond even to his own ears. “You- you’re one of my closest friends, Jon.” Jonathan looked down at him with wide, dark eyes. A light flush was settling over his caramel skin and his lips parted slightly, revealing pristine-white teeth. _Holy shit,_ some reserved part of Ryan thought… probably because he was still _really really_ bad at this whole friends-in-real-life thing. Yeah, that. His breath stuttered, but he forced himself to continue on. “I mean- you know that, right? You, Luke, and Bryce. You guys are like my family, only better because you guys were the ones that _actually_ stuck around.”

Ryan shifted his head sideways and stared intently at hem of Jonathan’s blue-black t-shirt, picking at stray strands absently. It was easier to focus on this, on the way the fabric frayed minutely at the edges, than to give into the burning of tears behind his eyelids. Why couldn't he fucking keep it together for one second?

Hesitantly but affectionately, Jonathan’s fingers came back down to curl around the underside of Ryan’s jaw. He tilted Ryan’s face, lifting his chin careful until they were eye-level with each other.

“That goes the same for me. You guys are the best friends a guy like me could ask for.” Jonathan spoke lowly and intently, his eyes focusing in on Ryan’s features softly. “That means you, specifically, Ry’. We’re always gonna be here for ya, partners in crime, for as long as you want us. F-for as long as you want me and my dumb ass.”

“But I like your ass. Besides, I gotta get that Delirious booty somehow.” Ryan responded without thinking. His eyes widened and he groaned, hiding his face with his palms. “Did I really just fucking say that,” he muttered in disbelief. Jonathan snorted above him and Ryan looked up to see his lips twitching upwards, a second away from breaking down into laughter. Ryan rushed to stop it, knowing exactly what his increasingly smug smile meant. “Delirious, don't you fucking dare-”

Jonathan gave in, cackling, his frame shaking uncontrollably. He clutched Ryan’s frame, howling with laughter. Ryan poked his friend’s side, an amused smile quickly forming on his own face.

“H-hey, c’mon dude. N-not fair!” Ryan started to giggle too, unable to help it; Jon’s laughter was too goddamn contagious. Delirious just continued on, his laughter escalating by the second and Ryan wasn’t far behind.

“G-goddamnit, J-Jon,” Ryan gasped out a good half a minute later; his stomach was starting to hurt from laughing so hard. “I-It’s not that- it’s not that fucking funny-” he wheezed suddenly, laughter rebuilding, completely contradicting his statement. Jonathan doubled over Ryan at that, laughing to the point of tears. His snickering turned into manic high-pitched giggles, uncontrollably loud and sporadic. Ryan just laughed harder, clutching at his stomach. They both gasped for breath, still giggling but calming down slightly. Ryan looked up at Jon out of corner of his eye- a fatal mistake, as they succumbed to cackling again the second they made eye contact.

It was the past the point of the joke, of anything that had been funny originally. They ended up clutching onto each other as they kept snickering, Ryan eventually curling up into Jonathan and over his aching stomach muscles.

“F-fuck, dude,” he groaned out some time later, his voice hoarse. Jonathan nodded, giggling and hiccuping every so often.

“I-I can't believe you fuckin’ said that, man,” he cackled gleefully. “Although, I don't blame you f-for staring n’ all,” he continued on casually, grin suddenly looking sharp, dangerous and all sorts of hungry. “You gotta live up to your name somehow.” Ryan groaned, flopping farther into Jonathan’s t-shirt. He cursed the goddamn day that Cartoonz- that _Luke,_ the motherfucker, had started the whole ‘butt-sex Ohm’ thing.

“This sucks,” Ryan sighed dramatically, turning over so he could sprawl his limbs all over Jonathan. “You suck,” he directed up at Jonathan’s amused visage. Goddamn his friends, their lame jokes and his inability to stop smiling because of said friends and stupid jokes. Ryan stuck his tongue at Jonathan, feeling childish and cool amusement simultaneously.

Jonathan just ran his fingers gently through Ryan’s hair and smiled widely down at him with low lit yet wild-spirited eyes. Huh. Wow, okay. He liked this; this was nice. Nice to be here- be here with Jonathan. Who’s his friend. Jonathan. Hmmmm… nice and warm. Warm fingers, warm heart. Warm Jonathan. _Okay._

His mind drifted further off into incoherency as he just focused on the calming sensations of long, nimble fingers running through his hair and along his scalp. He hummed lowly in the back his throat, melting further into Jonathan.

“You’re really, really good at this. Gon’… gonna half to keep you ‘round, J’,” Ryan mumbled a while later. He was completely relaxed, mind slipping away from everything; it was kinda nice. He knew he kept sinking farther back into a thicker accent that he hadn't allowed himself to use for years, but that was okay. Jonathan was safe and familiar, which made it all okay.

Those familiar-yet-unfamiliar hands carded through his hair again. “I'm not be goin’ anywhere, Ry’. You don't have to worry about that- you don't have to worry ‘bout me leaving or anything like that.” Jonathan frowned, his thumb passing back and forth along Ryan’s brow absently.

“I- I know. I trust you.” Ryan was sure of that, if nothing else.

Jonathan smoothed his palm over the side of Ryan’s face comfortingly. “Good,” he murmured, a fond, low-strung smile forming on his face. “You too, bunny-man. Lifesaving parachute privileges n’everything.” Jonathan’s smile was teasing and Ryan snorted, remembering the catastrophe that was their attempt at team-skydiving in ‘Grand Theft Auto V’ just a couple weeks prior.

During the session, their little group had split up into teams of two, aiming for a landing zone far below. Evan and Tyler had died almost immediately, mostly because Evan kicked Tyler out of the plane first and had been unable to catch up to him before they hit the ground. Brian and Jonathan had been close, but had missed the target and hit the field of stickybombs they’d laid just outside of the designated landing zone, dying instantly. Mini and Ryan had hit each other in mid-air, spinning out from each other and consequently destroying their parachutes before flailing to their deaths. It had been a completely unsuccessful clusterfuck, but had been hilarious nonetheless, filled with tons of bloopers and corpse launches that had made it all worth it. Ryan coughed out a laugh just remembering just how blatantly unorganized and ineffective their attempted mini-game had been.

“I’d better fucking hope that I’m better in real life than I was then, dude. You’re screwed otherwise.” Jonathan snickered in agreement, gaze lifting up to sweep across the low-lit living room.

“You wanna see if we can get some dinner started? I feel like I haven't eaten in forever, man,” Jonathan suggested, helping Ryan back onto his feet.

“Just as long as it’s not pasta, dude. I don't think my kitchen can't take another beat down.” Ryan smirked over at Jonathan, wiggling his fingers at him teasingly.

“Fuck you and your normal-ass cooking methods, Ry’. That pasta was delicious-” Jonathan paused, thinking, before brightening up and rambling on again. “You know what, actually? Imma show you what a real southern meal looks like and you’re gonna goddamn _like it!_ ” Jonathan brandished the cooking spoon at him like it was a weapon, as if daring him to disagree.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, undeterred and made sure to pitch his voice lower teasingly. _One innuendo coming right up, ladies and gentlemen._ “I'll believe it when I _taste_ it, babe-”

“Babe! You come back here, you pervy motherfucker- Ryan! Don't you run away from me; I swear on my Abuelita’s grave I will end you _and_ your nastiness-”

Ryan snickered, turning tail, and Jonathan bounded after him, spoon in hand. Face flushed and a grin stretching across his face, Ryan evaded Jonathan’s attempts at capture, feeling lighter- feeling _happier_ \- than he had in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave a comment or kudos ^^ I appreciate both!! 
> 
> Also things will speed up in the next chapter (thankfully not in a sudden, unexplained time skip lol). I just wanted to give them a solid foundation built on trust and support before moving on in their developing friendship (and later relationship) :) 
> 
> Thank you for all of your wonderful support; I wouldn't be able to do this without your wonderful feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> Also, although I'm a little swamped at the moment (so it'll take longer to get out than usual haha), you can always give me requests for pretty much any pairing/ideas either here or on my tumblr at isabellaphant.tumblr.com :D


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